


In the Valley of the Dying Sun

by welcomepineapple



Category: American Horror Story: Coven, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A lot of people die and get brought back to life, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Blood, Boys can be witches, Cursed!Derek, Dubious Consent, Gore, Hallucinations, I took some creative liberties with the Coven universe, M/M, Magic, Mostly everyone is a witch, No Porn, Panic Attacks, Slow Build, Threesome - F/F/M, Torture, Voodoo, Witchcraft, Witches, Zombies, i'll add tags as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1196337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcomepineapple/pseuds/welcomepineapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Rude. I’m gifted as <i>shit.</i>” </p><p>Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills, Louisiana and ends up living next to Madame Fournier's Academy for Gifted Students, which happens to secretly be a witch coven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Valley of the Dying Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This is my very first fanfic and wow I'm nervous. I know the tags are a little intimidating, so if you want a better piece of mind, there are notes at the end to specify everything. Basically though, if it's hard for you to watch Teen Wolf, it'll be hard to read this. 
> 
> Also, if you have any questions, comments, suggestions, feel free to inbox me [here](http://welcomepineapple.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> Thanks guys!

Beacon Hills, Louisiana is probably the very last place that Stiles Stilinski wants to inhabit. Who cares that his new house is ornately beautiful, or that his new living arrangements are a result of his father’s promotion to Sheriff-hood—the city itself is creepy as hell. Every street is gray and black cobblestone hidden under the shade of decades-old willow trees, every lamppost looks straight out of the 19th century, and every mailbox is a dark wiry metal post with no distinct difference from the others lining the streets.

“Where is the high school even at around here?” Stiles asks, squinting into the sun. “If there isn’t one, I’m okay with that too.” He smirks over at his father, knowing exactly how he’ll respond. John drags his eyes along their new backyard up to his son’s face and narrows his eyes.

“You’re going to school. It’s towards the highway, a few miles north,” the sheriff replies, eyes darting over to a small commotion drifting from the home of their new neighbors—some boys arguing. “I tried to enroll you over there, at Madame Fournier's Academy for Gifted Students, but the headmistress was… strange, at least over the phone, if I’m going to be frank.”

“Rude. I’m gifted as _shit_.” Stiles proclaims. 

"Yeah, son, you're a modern day DaVinci. Now go finish unloading the truck."

"Sure thing, daddy-o." Stiles replies with a short salute before walking away from his father and into the house. Sheriff Stilinski rolls his eyes with a fond mumble sliding off his tongue and follows his son’s trail.

Stiles reckons it took maybe thirteen seconds worth of moving some boxes from the truck they rented into their front living room before he began to overheat in his flannel shirt, and it was when he stripped down to his thin red t-shirt that he noticed movement out of the corner of his peripheral vision. Glancing up at the porch of his neighbor’s home, which happened to be Madame Fournier’s Academy for Gifted Students—the exclusive bastards-, he saw a pack of teenagers eyeing him down. The first thing he could think was “ _Wow, they are a lot more threatening than average teenagers”_ , which was quickly replaced by “ _Wow, they are a lot hotter than average teenagers.”_ One of the boys from the group, with tan skin and short, dark curls of hair waved a friendly hello at Stiles, only to get elbowed in the ribs by the tall boy with sharp cheek bones, whose glare became even more violent. Unwilling to meet the eyes of the other students and shy from the attention, Stiles turned back to the box labeled **“kitchen utensils”** with a soft blush painting itself across his cheeks.

Although he could feel their stares linger the entire time he and his father unpacked the truck, he refused to risk another glance—at least until he heard one of the girls whistle at him, followed by several ill-hidden snorts and grins.

When he looked over to the neighbors again, his jaw fell to the floor. The two boys that he had seen earlier, along with two girls he hadn’t noticed, were walking away, leaving behind a girl wearing skin-tight jeans and a leather jacket over nothing more than a glorified lingerie top. Her hair was golden and her red lips curled upwards when he made eye-contact—

Oh God. He totally just checked her out, and she knew. She threw her head back and cackled at his embarrassment. “Hey! Come over!”

Stiles looked back towards his father, eyes pleading and whether it was for permission or help, he's not quite sure himself.

 

 

 

After telling his father that he was going to meet the neighbors, he made his way up the porch of the school and darted his eyes every which way. The students had all made their way back into the academy aside from the blond, who waited for him at the front door.

“Hey cutie,” she said with a wink. “I’m Erica.”

“Uh, I’m Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, my dad is the new sheriff.” He answered, pointing his thumb over to his house. He was slightly hoping the information would scare the girl—Erica—at least a little so that she wouldn’t be so blatantly flirtatious with him; of course he didn’t mind the attention or the flattery, but he didn’t know how he’d handle the situation in front of other people—or worse: his own father.

Instead, she grinned a dangerous grin. “Perfect. C’mon, I’m gonna introduce you to everyone.” Manhandling him towards the door, Erica linked arms with Stiles and lead him into the foyer.

In short, the house was huge. Stiles had thought his new place was a mansion, but the academy blew it out of the water. Adorned with glossy white paint and expensive artwork, dark furniture, and a double-sided staircase that split underneath a diamond-and-gold chandelier, the house was nothing short of magnificent.

“This is a school? How do they trust you guys not to break anything…” he asked in quiet wonder.

“Oh honey, we break things all the time,” Erica answered darkly, to which Stiles whistled in appreciation. The academy, its owner, and the students attending had to be swimming in money. “We’re all here as guests; the academy searches for gifted students and invites them to live here to hone our skills.”

He twisted his neck at her words. “So you don’t pay anything to live here?”

“Nope!” She says as she throws her arms up in the air giggling, before dragging him further into the house and to the kitchen. “I’m not sure how much of the house I’m allowed to show you; Lydia—our headmistress—might not be happy you’re even in here, but you’ll figure it out sooner or later I’m sure.” She stopped at the dining room table.

“You seem smart, Stiles, are you smart?”

“Uhm, yeah, I guess. I was top of my class back in my last school. Which-I don’t know-I guess my dad tried to enroll me here, but I was rejected? Not to sound, y’know, bitter, or anything,” he trailed off, rocking on his heel and scratching his neck awkwardly. She slapped playfully at his arm and leaned in close to his cheek. Hot breath in his ear, she whispered, “No offense, but I don’t think you have what we have.”

He frowned a bit at that, his brows furrowing. _Rude_.

Before he could ask 'What is it that you have?', he was tackled from behind onto the tile floor. He squirmed underneath the weight and looked up at the boy with tan skin who had waved at him earlier from the porch.

“Uh, hi?”

“Hey! I’m Scott! You’re Stiles! Wanna be friends?” The guy was practically _panting_ into Stiles’ face, like… like a dog or something.

It had been less than ten minutes and he’d already been seduced by one neighbor and mauled by another.

“Scott! Get off of him! God!” yelled a girl from across the kitchen. She strolled over and pulled Scott off of him before extending a hand to help Stiles up. “Sorry about that, he’s just really friendly.” She laughed easily and her eyes crinkled up at him. “I’m Allison, and I’m guessing you’re Stiles?”

“Yeah.” He said, taking her hand and pulling himself up. “How did you guys know my name?”

Scott, basically fizzing with energy, barked out a laugh. “Derek told us!”

Erica shot Scott a sharp look. “The house is really, really old. Sound carries so easy. Derek probably just heard us talking.” She’s lying, Stiles can tell (his dad _is_ a sheriff, after all), but he isn’t going to push. “You stay here with Allison and Scott, cutie, and I’m gonna go round the others up and let them introduce themselves.” Erica says with a wink before turning on her heels and marching up the steps.

When she appears several moments later with three people in tow, two things catch Stiles’ eye.

The first is that everyone is wearing black. Like, all black. It isn’t his color necessarily, but black is fashionable. (He _thinks_ he remembers watching an episode of Fashion Police late, late at night and hearing them all babble about how great black clothes are-at the very least). He glances over at Scott and Allison and yep, they’re wearing all black too. Somehow, none of them look goth or emo, though. He doesn’t notice any chokers or band tees either; maybe they just all have some mutual agreement to match the academy’s black and white color scheme… for aesthetics or something.

The second thing is that Erica brought only three people in tow, one of which is definitely not a teenager. Altogether, if he’s counting correctly, that would put their class at a whopping size of five students. He himself prefers small student to teacher ratios, but the oddness of housing only six people in a large academy for gifted students doesn’t evade his notice.

“Okay, Stiles. This is Kira, Isaac, and our headmistress, Lydia Martin. Guys, this is the babe next door, his dad is the new sheriff,” she gestures to each of them individually, then ruffles his hair and adds “He’s totally you-know-who’s type. He’s so cute.”

Stiles eyed her quizzicly. Erica must not have been interested in him after all, despite the blatant flirting.

Lydia hums and eyes him thoughtfully—and wow, if she was maybe 10 years younger, Stiles would totally be ALL up on that if she’d let him be—before extending her arm and shaking his hand.

“I can see it in your eyes and don’t even think about it, honey.” Her grasp on his hand tightens just a little before she lets go. He’s never been the type of person to get turned on by frightfully intimidating women, but, well, there’s a first time for everything.

“Welcome to the neighborhood, Stiles. We hope you enjoy it and I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around. I’ve already heard a lot about you from the students!” She yells the last half of her sentence at him as she clicks down the hall towards the staircase in her heels, waving her hand dismissively, her auburn hair bouncing with her every step.

Kira follows suit, giving him a shy smile and nod before tucking a thick strand of black hair behind her ear and turning down the hall and back up the stairs. Isaac, who looks so vaguely familiar, gives Stiles a simple one-over and then pats him roughly on the shoulder. He murmured, “They’re right, you are pretty cute. Stick around and you’re in for a treat, man,” and then also proceeds to exit the kitchen.

“Does everyone at this school have like, innate sex appeal with an air of mystery or am I just imagining things?” Stiles asked seriously.

Erica shrugged with a small smile and said, “That’s Isaac Lahey, you probably know him; he was in some MTV show about werewolves. Now he’s our resident Asshole. Well, except for Peter…”

Stiles’ eyes go wide, “Aha! I knew he looked familiar! I thought he went to rehab?”

Isaac’s head pokes over the bannisters of the stairway as he roared out, “I obviously did not go to rehab because now I’m wasting away here.”

Erica and Allison both roll their eyes as Scott sits on the counter and braids Allison’s dark hair, oblivious. “Anyways,” Erica sighs, “I tried to convince Derek to come downstairs and meet you but he refused.” Stiles hums non-committedly, but Erica goes strangely quiet almost like she’s listening to something far away, before laughing quietly to herself. She looks up at Stiles like she forgot he was there. “Okay, well, that’s about everyone. Peter’s around here somewhere, hopefully you never meet him—he’s Derek’s uncle—and he’s got a nasty sense of humor that you’d probably enjoy so let’s never introduce you two.”

From his pocket, Stiles’ phone vibrates. “My dad wants me to come back home for dinner and to finish moving some stuff around. Thanks for uh, introducing me to everyone though. I’m sure I’ll see you guys around.” He waves to Scott and Allison before Erica leads him to the door and tells him with a genuine smile that he’s welcome over any time, “Except for the full moon.”

“Why can’t I come over on the full moon?” Stiles asked.

Erica leans in close and makes a show of looking up at Stiles from underneath her lashes. “During the full moon,” she whispers, “we practice our satanic rituals naked in the attic.”

A flush runs up Stiles’ neck and face. “Oh. Well, ahem, lots of people are into lots of different things! I’m not judging. One time I tried joining an online vampire community but I got blocked after a few days. So…”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m just joking.” Her lips crack into a smile.

“Oh.” He says, small and embarrassed.

When she opens the door and Stiles almost steps onto a dead crow lying crumpled on the porch, red blood staining the white paint, he’s only a little grossed out. Erica pressures him to leave it be and go home with a promise that she’ll “have one of the boys clean it up, Stiles, don’t worry about it. Ominous things happen around here all the time.” So he walks home and doesn’t worry about it. He’s so not worried about it that he doesn’t even notice another dead crow lying flat on his father’s cruiser, the dead crow hanging upside-down in the branches of the oak tree in his front yard, or the dead crow that literally falls from the sky and lands with a thump in his lawn as he shuts the front door.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so a lot of the issues in the tags don't come into play until later on in the story but:  
> -No Porn. I've never written sex and at this point I know it would be horrifically awful. I'm doing y'all a favor tbh  
> -Gore/Blood/Torture. Basically as mentioned above, if you struggle watching Teen Wolf, you'll struggle reading this probably. Imagine the scene on the subway car when Derek puts all the Betas in sharp torture devices. :))))  
> -Major Character Death. Two of them are already dead in Canon. One you probably won't mind being dead. One you probably will. Oops.  
> -Panic Attacks. As of right now it's just a plan and not set in stone, but I'll warn for that chapter when it comes.  
> -Dubious Consent. One of the witches posses the power of Seduction, so the sex is definitely not consensual. I'll warn for that chapter when it comes up also.
> 
> If I miss anything please don't hesitate to let me know!


End file.
